The Phantastorious
by Ichabod Viktor Cowler
Summary: A mysterious, blimp-shaped carriage, carried by 1,000,005 crows and ravens, rides throughout the otherworldly streets of the world, Otherwhere. James Barnabas is about to take an adventure on it with it's crew...
1. Chapter 1

Chronicles of the Phantastorious

By Ichabod Cowler

_For Livi_

Prologue

It was dark in the alleyway by the town, with the lanterns being the only source of sight around the brick walls. In the very back of the alleyway was a small little shop, almost no different from every other shop in town. It had a sign, a little door with a few windows, and if one looked in, they could see all the various items that the owner was attempting, feebly or willingly, to sell. However, it was _almost_ like every other shop. This shop was different from other shops in the idea of what it was selling. Other shops were usually for clothing, animals, food, furniture, and other basic needs and desires of life.

This shop was of a certain magical desire. And while the shops, at least to a regular human mind, were very magical in normality, this was a very different type of magic.

Rambinski Bolovardi, the owner, manager, and master of the store, was working in the dark, damp basement that was hidden cleverly in a cabinet under the counter of the store. He was sweating as he was pushing his large hands up in place of the giant vehicle he was creating. The vehicle had 6 legs sprouting from underneath it, 3 on each side of its giant round body. That was all that could be seen of it, however, hiding underneath a thick tarp. Rambinski crawled out underneath, pulling out a handkerchief to his sweat soaked forehead and wiping it across his creased brow. He was dumbfounded that coming to Cheshire would've put this much work on him. He was getting a lot more exercise from creating this massive thing, and yet he was still thin as a rake!

The odd creation was nearly done. The body needed its power now, something to bring uniqueness to itself. "Now, to wait for the pretty girly" he said to himself in his thick Russian accent. His time at relaxation didn't allow him any time to notice a thick smoke seeping through the bricks behind him as he rested his worn-out, bandaged hands on the table. His panting grew slower, finally in a relaxed state, the spittle from his mouth gone, and his aching body back into a place of ease. The smoke twisted behind Rambinski's head, almost dancing and having a bit of fun. Rambinski sensed this almost automatically. He was sweating again, his eyes wide open, his look of contentment now transformed to a look of anxiousness. He quietly and subtly reached for a wrench near his hand on the table.

He turned around quickly and shouted with his voice piercing through the wind. He swung the wrench at whatever was behind him and he succeeded. He had hit the table, and with a fairly good hole in it, resulting from the blow.

He hadn't hit what he expected his target to be, however. As an insult to injury, the table was a well-crafted gift from his babuchka. At the realization of this, Rambinski began swearing in Russian up and down the basement. He was too angry with his faults that he didn't notice the smoke behind him again, or perhaps he did notice and chose not to address it. It quietly as ever picked up a crowbar, which lifted up to the side of his head eerily. He turned to see this phantom crowbar and let out a short but shrill shriek of shock, before passing out from the bash on the head with this ghostly object.

The smoke released the crowbar, letting it clatter to the ground, as the small blood mark from Rambinski's bruise on his temple leaked near the bar. The smoke began illuminating from its black, foggy presence into a more reddened color of black. It swept about itself in the room, forming something shaped like a human. After spinning and twisting, the dark, black, fiery, red smoke was decreased to nothing more than white, steamy, see-thru smoke from a thin, black cigarette. Holding the cigarette was a thin, curvy, voluptuous woman in a very revealing red night-gown. Her skin was pale, and her hair was shaggy and black, almost pointed up like cat ears. But her most distinguishing feature was her mischievous, probably devious, fanged grin.

She hummed a short verse of a Russian lullaby Rambinski used to know, just to make sure he'd be put to sleep. She took a peek underneath the tarp to look at the construction. She giggled wickedly to herself then, and began talking to herself, though moreso to the unconscious magic-shop owner. "I must say, Rambinski, you tool," she began in a drifting, slow voice, "you've done quite well. The architecture is quite deceiving. I love it unreservedly!

"Now all that's left is to start the bloody ritual thing that he spoke of." She let out a sigh of impatience. The smoke-lady's eyes closed as a black light emanated from underneath the tarp of the vehicle. The machine, whatever it was, seemed to be glowing with an unearthly power, being caused by the smoke-lady. Her eyes opened wide and her pupils were now color-changing slits, like a snake's eyes. The colors from underneath began rapidly changing as well, as if the vehicle would've been hot, cold, sticky, tasty, disgusting, or anything else if you touched it or licked it (not that you should have been licking it in the first place).

Finally, she stopped. The colors rapid-fire changing ceased.

"Humph!" She said. "That was pathetically easy! I swear, the boss could've just gotten off his high-horse and done that himself!" She was changing back into smoke, twisting and turning in the wind, heading out through the bricks again. Even in this form, her voice whispered in wind, "I'd better be getting something out of doing his work for him!"

The creation was now complete. The smoke-woman didn't have to worry much more. She passed her anger by with the reassurance that all she had to do at this point was sit and wait in a comfortable throne.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Venice, Italy

December 1, 1880

The night sky was filled with color. Fireworks blew into the sky with a long whistling sound, ending with the noise of gunshot in the air. The people below, near the tall fountains and the stone buildings and the predominantly green gardens, celebrated with their cheering, shouting, whistling, laughter, and dancing. A man with a clean butcher's apron cried out to others, "Fresh bread, right here! Enjoy it on the day of the festivities!" Two teenage women sat upon a stone bench at the fountain, holding their fans to their faces, hiding their smiles, while their masks hid their faces. They both probably talked about the fine gentlemen that passed by, sharing gossip and rumor and secrets with each other, giggling, gasping, and laughing in between sentences.

"Oh, what do you think of that one over there, Maria? The one with the rabbit masque", said the black-haired girl to her blonde-friend.

"Hmm", Maria said as she thought for a minute. "He doesn't seem like much. I'm willing to bet that he's utterly nothing more than a banker. That explains why he's rich, but bankers don't interest me, Giovanna"

"Why not?" asked Giovanna. "I should think that a banker would be the richest of everyone here!"

Maria sighed, "Giovanna, it's like you don't know me at all. I prefer quality over quantity."

They began giggling in their own little way again, seeing who else they could gossip about and make stories of. The best thing about life, in Maria and Giovanna's opinion, was being able to make stories and make them interesting enough to rattle their minds about.

They were about to comment on one man's blue tuxedo and opera masque (rather unkindly, one might add), until they had seen 4 teenage boys, looking almost their age, 16. Now instead of hiding their smiles of mockery and joy, they hid their blushes and open mouths of fascination. They knew exactly who these cloaked gentlemen were. Then again, most everybody at the festival did. They just didn't think that 16-year-old men of remarkably high-class would've come to the festival in Italy. They had heard rumor that they came to support a friend of theirs from Italy, having sent letters to each other quite frequently. The 2 girls instantly began talking amongst themselves about the 4 boys, hoping they wouldn't be recognized.

"That can't be, can it!" Maria said in a shrill voice, hoping her fan would hide her.

"No…Absolutely not! Unless…maybe it is…Yes! It is them!" Giovanna replied.

All 4 boys were from different European nations, yet all close enough. As far as these girls knew, and everybody else in Venice knew, for that matter, these boys had been best friends since childhood.

The first boy they noticed instantly was from Venice himself, Alessandro Baldassare. His family name was renowned far back to the Renaissance of 1455, as the sons and daughters of a chivalrous knight. Now, his family lived by Vittorio's, Alessandro's father, wealth from his occupation of the judge of Italy. Alessandro wore a black tuxedo and had his red hair slicked back, showing off his widow's peak. He spoke to his friends fondly on the beauty of the women of Venice, stating that their rosy red lips were as succulent as the nectar in flowers was to bees. The girls, who overheard this from across the fountain, began blushing harder behind their masques.

The second boy across from them was recognized as Friedrich von Melchiost from Brandenburg, Germany. The family name began as nothing more than an entrepreneur of selling fish. Now, they ran the highest company in Germany of selling seafood. He was the tallest of the four, with his short hair not needing much of combing, and his lazy expression just staring about the city of Venice. He wore the masque of a bloodhound. "He must be at least 6'9"!" exclaimed Maria. "If he's that tall, imagine what other appendages of his might be tall as well!" Sighed and giggled in a quick sexual thought for a moment, and then continued trying to make out who was who in the aristocratic group.

Paying no attention to the conversation between Alessandro and Friedrich, and having his own conversation with another of the group, was Erik Durand of Marseille, France. Unfortunately for Maria, Erik's family name came from his father's success as a banker. Erik had made use of his share of the money by practicing and learning his own skills at the piano. Erik's hair wasn't combed back at all, and was rather kept into the short, tousled mess that it was. He wore glasses, therefore, didn't wear a masque, but that only allowed the women to see his sparkling teeth in the sunlight. In his hand was a rose, most likely from a distant admirer in Italy. Almost half of Europe knew of its aristocratic members fondly.

Finally, seeming the most normal of the 4 was James Barnabas of London, England. He was the second youngest, Alessandro being the youngest, and was probably the most handsome looking of the boys. Blonde hair pulled back in a pony-tail, a regularly button-shaped nose, and blue eyes. His family was well-known from his grandfather's part in the Revolutionary war. Though his family wasn't the richest of the group, they grew a living off of his mother's violin recitals around the world and their grandfather's fame. His father hadn't been heard of much, and rarely did James ever speak of him, but some believed that his father was an inventor or a scientist of some kind. James had no masque, as he didn't care for them much, being sweaty behind plastic, especially in a hot night in Italy. James listened intently to Erik's speech, smiling and laughing and replying in that adorably odd British dialect.

Giovanna and Maria blushed and giggled behind their masques and fans across from the young gentlemen, trying to hide themselves, even though they paid no attention to them. 4 of Europe's finest young princes of wealth were right here at the Masquerade Festival in Venice! Giovanna and Maria were of the same class as the 4 gentlemen, just not so rich. Yet, they thought to themselves, _"Why not? We've just as much a chance with them as any other girl, if not even more chance!"_

They began talking amongst themselves.

Maria whispered, "I'll take the German and the English one. They're far more handsome!"

Giovanna replied, "I'll take the French and the English one, you can have the Italian prince!"

"Oh, but they're a dime a dozen here! Why can't I have something new?" Maria whined.

"Why can't I have something new? I'll take the cutest ones and the richest ones; you can have the lanky German."

Maria thought about this again. They came to the agreement that Giovanna would take Erik and James, and Maria would take Alessandro and Friedrich.

They giggled and stopped politely, remembering how to behave and how to win a man over, especially a hormonal 16 year old. They walked up in their gallant red and green dresses, which shined in the moon's yellow light. They walked right up to each man they were going to take, smiling seductively, and their colorful eyelids closing halfway towards the gentlemen in a sexual manner.

Without warning, Erik, Friedrich, James, and Alessandro's attention were all drawn towards the two women before them right now. Friedrich's lazy expression was now an expression of joy and flirtatiousness. Erik and James grinned at each other, Erik with a more arrogant grin, James with a reassuring grin. Alessandro suddenly felt the night growing warmer, though it was still only 11:25 at night.

"Hello, gentlemen", Maria began. "My name is Maria Medaccio, and my friend, Giovanna Fretto."

Erik walked up in a cocky fashion, "Bonsoir, Mme." Though all 4 boys new almost every European language by heart from their tutors, they did keep a lot of their language similar to their own country.

"I, ladies, would be—"

"Oh, we know who you are, silly", Giovanna giggled. "Everybody here does. We know all of you"

Maria interrupted, "Not personally of course, but socially"

Giovanna started their idea again. "We were actually wondering what you 4 gentlemen of Europe's power would like to do. This is Venice, after all, and on the night of the festival, any of your deepest desires can be fulfilled. And we wanted our desire to, say…have a stroll throughout the Venice with you 4?"

Alessandro began grinning again. "Ladies", he began, "allow me to talk with my close, personal friends." Though the friends had only just met Alessandro a year ago and didn't think of him as personal or close as they did with each other.

All 4 walked in a semicircle, speaking with each other and holding their festive, black cloaks up to their shoulders to prevent anyone from hearing. The suspense was murdering Maria and Giovanna. They realized that this had to be done because the gentlemen hadn't preplanned like the women did, but it was still thrillingly murderous to them.

Alessandro began, "Gentlemen, I don't disappoint do I? I meant every word I said when I talked of these beautiful ladies! Who agrees, eh?"

Though Friedrich was very fond of food, he wasn't too fond of bread (though he found the lobster to be exquisite). In fact, he was hoping for something exciting tonight, and yet he hadn't found a thing. Not from the fireworks, the dancing, the shows, the performances, or the games. Italy just seemed so different to him, he wasn't ready for it. However, maybe the women wouldn't be so bad.

Erik agreed immediately. "Gentlemen, friends! Let's not keep these lovely angels waiting. They're offering us sociality in this foreign land to us, and especially on a night of such merriness! We should return their favor and maybe we can have a little…favor in return, if you know my meanings well." Erik wasn't a jerk to women at all, and didn't think of them as just sexual objects of desire. In fact, quite the opposite: he adored, worshiped, and thought incredibly highly of women. That still, however, gave him more motivation to get into a woman's skirt faster than a ferret.

"Well, enjoy yourselves, friends." James was smiling kindly as he said this, yet shocked the four young princes. "_Vas?"_ Friedrich asked, meaning 'what?' in German. "You will not join us, friend? Surely, these women are beauteous and quite friendly."

Maria and Giovanna, though having politeness in their equally high social class, listened to every word the noblemen said, and were slightly shocked at this.

Erik grabbed James' arm and pulled him close enough to whisper in a demanding tone. "Monsieur! These women desire and deserve your presence!"

"Well, Erik", James retorted in a similar whispering tone, "perhaps you've forgotten my engagement?"

All 3 friends suddenly remembered. Though it had only been a short while since James had gotten news of the engagement, each prince new of the other's events. Even so, Erik sighed and rested his hand on James' shoulder to reassure him. "Mon ami, come now! How long is it till the wedding actually is? And even if you think you are sure you love Elizabeth, how can you be sure unless you're with another woman for a while?" Erik enjoyed trying to be a conman to persuade people on his side. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't. This was one of those unsuccessful times.

James removed Erik's hand from his shoulder, slightly frowning, giving a look that said two things at once. The first was "don't give me any of this 'women need you' bullshit" and the second was "watch what you say about Elizabeth and me". Erik was intuitive enough to understand what James meant.

Erik, Friedrich, and Alessandro turned around and gazed into the women's eyes dreamily to cast their charming spell. Apparently, if you were rich and had fame, you could pull this look off and any woman (at least around your age) would fall for you. Erik walked up to Giovanna and began kissing her hand gently in a fashion as if he was lightly rubbing his lips across the back of it. Giovanna's face flushed a deep shade of red.

"Mme, we 3 will be going with you. Our friend here, um-", he began, not knowing where to go with his sentence. Alessandro was quick and made up a story. "You see, ladies, our poor James hasn't had the best night here at the festivities." He cupped his hands towards them to assure James wouldn't here, as James despised lies and rumors, especially towards himself. Even so, the friends put their gloved hands to their mouths and gave a short "awww!"

James simply thought they were displeased that he wasn't going to be with them. He saw their faces and responded with an apologizing glance and a shrug of the shoulders. "But my other friends" Erik said reassuringly, "and I will be more than honored to go with you both". Though the girls wished for the whole group to accompany them, they were pleased with 3. They agreed happily and walked off, waving their fans towards James. "We hope tonight will turn in better favor for you, sir!" Erik quickly pulled them along quicker, hoping James hadn't heard that.

Truthfully, though, James hadn't cared. As soon as he was sure they were gone, James let his smile down, walked over to the fountain, pulled his white masque off, and splashed the cool aqua to his face, rubbing around his sore cheeks to ease the pain of grinning. A few stray hairs fell in front of his forehead, which were easily slicked back again.

James walked across the brick roads of Venice by the rivers and boats with lovers kissing in the moonlight. The streets were filled everywhere with children laughing with their toys, men chatting about social events and politics, and women gossiping about this funny man in a blue tuxedo or an ugly woman who refused to wear makeup. James hated people like that. _"So what if somebody didn't do things the way you had?"_ He always wondered.

Truth be told, James wasn't that interested in the festival tonight. He pulled his masque back on, and walked the streets. James enjoyed this, as he got some of his best ideas when outside and walking. He walked along the lengthy streets of Venice by the rivers, thinking a lot about his life. In honesty, James wasn't the most social of his group. In fact, he was the most anti-social of them. He would occasionally see a familiar face, and start up a conversation that lasted only 30 seconds of their time. And at a place where sociality was the highest expectancy for him, he was dismayed and unhappy. He didn't enjoy conforming to other's expectations of him.

"_What now?"_ he wondered. He still had a ticket to the theatre and could see a performance of _Les Troyens_ if he had the time. Or perhaps he could see _Hamlet_. He didn't know, and right now, he honestly didn't care. He needed something he could put his mind at focus to. He enjoyed stage performances, so maybe this would be something fun. James just wasn't in the mood.

He slowly put ideas in his mind of what he could do. If he kept walking, it would be a good exercise. If he went to see a performance, it would be good for his entertainment. If he bought some bread or garlic or fresh cheese, it'd be good for his appetite. If he tried possibly spending the night with another female acquaintance, Elizabeth would've given him a beating that would be marked as a historical moment in James' life!

James truly loved Elizabeth, having known her since childhood, but only as a sister. He wasn't that happy with knowing that he was chosen to marry her, most likely because his family would receive more wealth from Elizabeth's family, the Rothes. Elizabeth was pretty much in the same mood as James was, but she didn't mind it much. She was actually somewhat happy to be with a childhood friend. The only thing was that if James was with any other girl, aside from close relatives, she had, to say the least, a jealousy issue.

He found it slightly unfair, that he couldn't take a chance and try to be with another girl; that the god Cupid might strike his mighty bow into James' heart at the sight of another. So far, that hadn't happened, but still, it was slightly unfair for him. But like life, he figured that he may as well get used to it. Maybe the emotions would follow after more time together…if they ever had any.

What really annoyed him was that, meanwhile, his friends were having the time of their lives, seeing performances, walking with women, guiding them to a nearby hotel where the group chose to have their rendezvous during their 3 night stay. Then, actions best left unmentioned would happen, leaving their clothing scattered about the floor.

"_Perhaps I just need to learn more about humanity"_, he thought to himself. James was just about to go on to a University at Oxford. His family knew Henry Liddell, the schoolmaster there, and had assured their prodigal prince a place at Oxford. He planned on taking psychology, sociology, and philosophy in his life. Who knew? Maybe James could change the world with just a few words.

James walked onward into a cave, still wondering and thinking about how life would be if he weren't this rich. If he were just a normal commoner, living in the streets of Italy like these people did. Selling bread didn't sound that great. Maybe doing street performances would be fun. And enjoying the people around you…on second thought, James enjoyed his privacy.

He walked along and continued to think and dream and walk and think and dream until he was more-or-less satisfied.


End file.
